


When the Day met the Night

by iamavacado



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Based on a song, Blind Date, First Date, Fluff, M/M, SSBB, Sanders Sides Bang, cecily smith, moxiety - Freeform, opera - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 11:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17682368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamavacado/pseuds/iamavacado
Summary: Virgil goes on a blind date with someone named Patton, who takes them to the opera. Usually, he hates the opera, but with this guy, it isn't so bad....





	When the Day met the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever sanders sides bang!!!! I had two wonderful artists, @my-analogical-romance and @vegetarianwater on tumblr. Go ahead and look at their art!!! Hope you enjoy :)

Virgil meandered into the living room. His hands were in the pockets of his jacket, and he tried to seem as casual as possible. For him, that meant doing the opposite of what he was doing right now, because at this point, anyone who saw him would mistake him for Roman with the way he seemed eager for a conversation. But still, he tried to keep it lowkey.

Just as he suspected, Logan was still in his armchair, lazily reading a book. His legs were crossed, which meant he’d been there a while. It also meant he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. When Virgil made his presence known (via a clear of the throat), he looked up.

“Virgil,” Logan greeted. He slid a bookmark into place, but didn’t close the book. “Do you need something?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t...need anything, just…uh…” Virgil spotted his satchel on the other side of the living room, in the kitchen. It was hanging from one of the kitchen chairs, the flap open. It wasn’t an unusual place for it; that’s where he always tossed it after work. However, at this point, it made things rather inconvenient. Virgil didn’t want to be seen taking it back to his room to store his things to go out, but he needed it since he didn’t have any other bags. So his previous excuse--wanting to go out and get a late night snack--would not suffice now. He could just take his wallet for that. So now what would he say?

Logan tilted his head a bit, and Virgil realized that he hadn’t finished his sentence, and his pause had been longer than it should have been. He cleared his throat, trying to push through. “I got called into work.” He said it as casually as possible, and started walking through the room.

There was a pause as Logan checked his watch. By his hum, he seemed surprised that it was already nearing 10 o’clock. Then he looked back up as Virgil swung the satchel over his shoulder. “It’s a bit late for that, wouldn’t you say?”

“Ahhhmmm...yyyeah. Yeah, it’s kinda late.” He checked his watch, then realized he didn’t even own a watch, so why was he even doing that? He let his arm fall to his side. “But you can never tell what’s gonna happen when Nate is running things. He calls people in even when there’s only one person in the aisles. Someone probably went home and now he feels overwhelmed.”

“At 10 pm?”

Virgil shrugged, picking up his pace. He was at the hallway once again. “I dunno. It happens. Closing shifts and all that. I’ll call you once I’m there. It’s fine. It’s normal to be called in so late.” He shut himself up at that point; he was talking too much.

Logan echoed his thoughts. “Little talkative aren’t you?” he asked with half a smirk. Virgil froze for a second, because Logan shifted in his seat and part of Virgil thought he’d stand up and question him further. However, he didn’t, and Virgil sighed in relief. He just crossed his legs in a different way, looking back down at his book. He removed the bookmark. “You don’t have to call me,” he said. “Just text. It’s late, and I want to know you’re safe.”

“Totally.” Virgil was backing down the hallway, eyes on Logan. He offered a thumbs up. “Not a problem. I will totally text you...when I get there.” He backed into the doorframe, bumping into it. He muttered a curse, then spun around into his room, slamming the door behind him. When he did, his door mirror self stared back at him.

“You are not a good liar,” his mirror version said to the real version.

 

************************

The night was chill, but comfortable. Virgil’s breath curled into the air like smoke, and he was reminded of the time when he was a kid. He and his brother would grab sticks and break them into small pieces. Then they would pretend to smoke the sticks and blow into the cold winter air, acting like their breath was the smoke. He’d be entertained for hours on end. 

He smiled at the memory, and continued forward. After a few minutes, he passed his place of work: a small convenience store tucked in between a flower shop and a tattoo parlor. It didn’t get a lot of business, which Virgil was very glad for. He glanced over in the window, and saw that it was indeed Nick who was working tonight. So at least he wasn’t lying about that part. 

He pulled out his phone and sent Logan a text: **at work. will text once I start home. see you later**

Virgil walked past his work with a small twist in his stomach, feeling the bite of the lie in his throat. Logan texted back. 

**Okay. Be safe. Talk soon.**

He didn’t like the idea of having to lie to Logan. But he didn’t feel like answering a lot of questions. ‘Who are they? Where are you going?’ Stuff like that. He didn’t feel like answering those. He’d tell the truth once he got home. Or maybe the day after tomorrow. Next week. Never.

At least, not until he figured out whether this would pan out or not. 

Virgil continued on in the chilly air until he got to his destination: a small diner at the end of a strip mall that seemed to be overshadowed by the other stores next to it. The lights inside were dim, and it almost looked as if it were closed since it was nearly empty. He pushed the door open, and a bell rang, announcing his presence. A waitress turned around and smiled at him.

“Table for one?” she asked.

Virgil stuck his hands in his pockets, glancing around at the tables. There were only two other people in there, and they looked nothing like Virgil was looking for. _Blue,_ he remembered the person saying, _I’ll be wearing blue._

So the other person probably wasn’t here yet. “Uh, table for two. I’m waiting for someone.”

The waitress nodded, and led him over to the booth near the corner of the diner, per Virgil’s request. Just in case Logan realized he forgot something and wanted to drive over past this diner to the store and get it. He didn’t want to be seen. Virgil slid in the booth and thanked the waitress, asking for a water. He didn’t know what his date, Patton, would be asking for, so he didn’t try to guess.

Virgil just sipped his water and waited. He played with the fray threads his sleeve and waited. He checked his phone, watching the time tick by, and he waited. The waitress came by twice to ask if he wanted some food, and he politely said no, that he was waiting for someone, and that they would be here shortly. But he could see the flick of pity flash across her face as he declined, looking out the window. By the third time she came by, he ordered an appetizer just to feel a little better about being there for so long. 

After a solid half hour, Virgil nearly decided to call it. He had finished his jalapeno poppers and was about to ask for a bill when the chime went off at the diner’s front door. A man burst through, looking disheveled, and clearly out of breath. He had a gray scarf twirled around his neck, covering the bottom half of his face. He also had a puffy black coat on. He was wearing glasses. Did Virgil’s date say he was going to be wearing glasses? He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the conversation.

 **Popstar:** Blue! I’ll be wearing blue. What will you be wearing?

 **OnTheVirge:** i have this weird jacket that i sewed that has these purple patches on them. you wont miss it

Patton didn’t say anything about glasses. So Virgil looked back up at the man who had entered, and watched in anticipation as he unzipped his coat. When he pulled it off, there was a bright blue shirt underneath. Virgil’s heart sped up a bit. This had to be the guy. It had to be. It was almost blatantly blue, like some kind of sign that said 'hey, it's me!’ should be written on it in bright font.

“Excuse me,” said the man--Patton. His voice was polite and smooth. “Waitress? I was supposed to be here for someone named Virgil? He has a jacket with purple patches on it?”

Virgil looked down at himself, and noticed how prominent the wrinkles were in what he was wearing, which was nothing new. But now, they seemed to stick out more than ever. He tried to smooth them out as the waitress waved Patton over to the table, where Virgil could better see what he looked like. He had green eyes. Brown hair that was messily pushed back. A smattering of freckles were spread across his cheeks that almost looked like constellations, which looked quite nice. Virgil always secretly loved freckles. Once in a while he would do the makeup beauty guru thing where he’d take brown eyeliner and dot them on. But he only ever wore them in the house. He wouldn’t dare step outside with them on.

Once there, Patton slipped into the booth across from Virgil with a warm smile. He thanked the waitress and asked for a root beer float. 

There was a pause. Virgil looked down at the empty basket of jalapeno poppers. Then at his half empty water. Then back up at Patton. He wasn't sure what to say. 

“So,” Patton started, “I want to apologize for being so incredibly late.”

Virgil shook his head. “No, no, it's okay--”

“No, it isn't. I was supposed to make a good first impression, and me being so late probably made me seem like some kind of flake, but I promise I'm not. I was trying to get something for us to do.”

Virgil checked his phone. It was almost 11pm now. What could they possibly be able to do at this time of night? “Something for us to do?”

“Yeah! Look at these.” Patton ruffled inside his coat pocket for a few moments and then produced two thin papers. They looked like tickets. “I was on the phone for these. And then I had to print them out, which took forever because it kept jamming. But i got them for us! Here, take one.”

Virgil took one and looked down at the ticket. It was for an opera house downtown that was putting on a show at midnight tonight. Patton had seemed to grab some seats near the middle.

Patton pointed at the seats on his own ticket. “This is the perfect place to sit,” he explained. “The speakers converge right in that very spot, and when the singer’s voice swells with the crescendo of the music? It’s perfection!” He then slid the ticket into his pocket. “I was going to go with the 10:45 one, but we see that that didn’t work out,” he continued apologetically. “So I sprung for the midnight one. That way, we still have time to eat.”

“I...um...I’m...not sure what to say.” Virgil eyed Patton, unsure whether this whole blind date thing was a good idea. Virgil was too much of a recluse to be with someone who was loud, excitable, and giddy, like Patton seemed to be. And besides, he hated opera. Hearing people squawk behind some violins rubbing together was not the way he imagined spending his Friday night, especially with someone he just met. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” said Patton. “It’s going to be a great time, I swear. I’ll pay for the meal too, since I was so late.”

“I-- I brought money,” Virgil tried to say, reaching for his satchel, which was sitting next to him in the corner of the booth. “I can pay.”

“It’s okay! I made you wait, so I want to make up for it.” Patton reached down and pulled out his wallet. “My way of saying sorry.”

Virgil blinked. At least he seemed kind.

Hopefully he was kind enough to not immediately abandon the date after his next sentence. “Well, if I’m being honest, uh, Patton,” he started. He put his hands under the table and started to toy with the stray threads on his sleeve again. “I’m not the...hugest fan of...opera…so, if you let me pay for the meal, at least, I won’t...feel as bad for making you waste your money on something I don’t think I’ll end up enjoying.”

There was a slight pause where Patton just looked at him. Virgil could swear that there was the smallest flash of disappointment show itself in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. He giggled and said, “It doesn’t matter what you’re listening to Virgil. It’s who you’re listening with! And, I think I’m pretty cool, and you look pretty cool. And cool plus cool equals--”

“Ice cold,” they both said in unison. Virgil half smiled at him. Patton grinned back. 

Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

**********************

They took their seats in the middle of the auditorium, right where Patton explained would be the best place to sit. They sat next to each other, and Virgil became very aware of how little space there was between seats. The only thing that separated them was a razor thin armrest, which Patton's arm was on. So he tried to just keep his hands folded in his lap, and they made small talk as the other seats filled up.

“I know you said you don't like opera Virgil,” said Patton, “but I think this might change your mind.”

“Oh really?” Virgil teased. “That's what my buddy Logan said before taking me to an accounting conference. Spoiler alert. It did not change my mind.”

“Accounting conference?”

“Yeah. I know. All those charts and graphs and all those amazing statistics _didn’t_ make me like accounting?”

Patton laughed a little bit at Virgil’s sarcasm, and for some reason, Virgil just stared at him. Maybe a little too long, but Patton didn’t notice; he was looking ahead. Virgil forced his head back down, feeling something inside his chest twist a little bit. That wasn’t something he was used to. 

After a pause, Patton snickered to himself and said, “I guess he was ac-counting on it changing your mind.”

Then they were both laughing, and his chest twisted a little more. Virgil decided to ignore it. He has just met the guy, it wasn’t possible to already be catching feelings. Instead, he tried to jump on the pun train to get it out of his mind. “He didn’t account for my stubbornness,” Virgil said.

“The numbers weren’t in his favor,” Patton shot right back. 

Another laugh from the both of them. Virgil stuffed his hands in his pockets. The lights started to dim. He sighed in relief, but tried to keep it discrete. _Let’s get this over with,_ he thought.

“Ooo, here it comes,” Patton whispered.

Virgil looked at the stage as the curtains opened, and was halfway bewildered to find that the stage was empty. Maybe the person forgot their cue, Virgil supposed. He glanced over at Patton, who was completely enthralled, eyes glued to the stage. Could it be that there was an invisible person onstage that Virgil didn’t know about? He started to lean over and ask what was up.

But then he heard the music.

A violin played a quiet melody that eased through the air, slowly announcing its presence to the audience. Virgil searched the stage, and from the right there was someone walking onstage, dressed in victorian clothing (or something; Virgil didn’t know for sure). They came to the middle of the stage, walking slowly, in time with the violin, under which a slow heartbeat-like drumming began to pound. Once at the very middle of the stage, the person looked towards the audience with a sorrowful face. 

The lone violin was joined then with a chorus of them, all playing this mournful tune that echoed throughout the auditorium. Virgil looked up at the person. They began to sing.

If you got Virgil a little tipsy, he would admit, despite his earlier claims, that the opera was good. He dreaded having to come, but being with Patton made it a little better, even if he barely knew the guy. If you got him drunk, he’d say he would like to go again. If you got him completely wasted, then he might admit that when the person started to sing in a lovely, heavenly voice, he started crying.

Not weeping, mind you. But he could feel himself tearing up, and he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the violins. Maybe it was the person singing, or a combination of both. Maybe he was just tired because it was midnight and he had work in the morning. But he had to reach up and wipe his eyes with his sleeves more than once during the show.

Patton noticed this at one point. Virgil could see out of the corner of his eye that Patton turned and looked as he wiped his eyes. After that, Virgil tried to get control of himself, but he did notice that Patton had let his hand rest on his leg, palm up. Virgil thought he was just letting his hand rest there, but after a while it seemed strange that someone would rest their hand on their leg palm up. Virgil suspected, that maybe, _maybe,_ it was some kind of invitation. He was unsure whether or not to take that chance. After all, if he was wrong, he might ruin his chances with Patton, who honestly seemed pretty nice. But if he was right...

Virgil took the chance. Something about the crescendo of the music and the way it converged perfectly to where they were sitting gave him a burst of courage. He reached for Patton’s hand hesitantly. _Can I?_ Patton looked down at it, then up at him. He nodded slightly with a small smile. _Sure._

They stayed like that, hands resting comfortably together, for the rest of the performance. It surprised Virgil with how right it felt. 

*************

They exchanged their goodbyes and promised to meet again. Patton expressed his interest in maybe sharing a kiss upon parting, but Virgil politely declined. Although, he did indicate that if a second date went well enough, he wouldn’t object then. Patton smiled and swore he’d score some tickets to Beethoven’s Fifth. 

“Absolutely not!” Virgil exclaimed. “We already did your thing, now we do my thing.”

Patton arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah, for next time--” Virgil pulled out his phone and scrolled for a second before producing a QR code-- “we’re going to a concert.” He put his phone away. “I have Panic tickets. My friend Roman was going to go with me, but he had something come up. I needed someone to go with, and I couldn’t find anybody. I was going to sell the extra one and go alone, but...this could work.”

Patton looked at Virgil, and a grin broke across his face. “Sounds like a date!”

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment :)


End file.
